The Bee vs the Ginger
by Fyndra
Summary: Will Saito and Kenshin be ever able to finish their duel?


It was early May, the birds were singing, the trees were stretching their lush green leaves towards the sky, while the ants – well, they were doing what ants usually do, whatever it may be. However, five or six of them could only do this until a wistful samurai trampled over them. The slightly careless man entered the door of the dojo with a lady – see also: mistress, drama queen, kenjutsu-impostor, her stinginess –, but had some moments of hysterics upon seeing who was waiting inside.

Fortunately, it was not the swordsmith, from whom he borrowed the super-rare and thus extremely valuable (though totally useless) reverse-blade sword. Unfortunately, it was his archenemy, with whom he had some quarrels back in the so-called 'revolution', when some merry massacres took place in order to control population growth. Their dispute happened about ten years ago, yet our protagonist felt worried. What if his foe wants to retaliate those not-so-nice words he shouted to him and his 300 loony buddies? The wistful samurai cleared his throat after this long introduction to have some words in this sea of narration.

'Saito Hajime.'

The other man – a morose guy with sword, wearing security guard clothing – got up from the ground where he had been sitting. He murmured something about catching a cold, but only he himself could hear these complaints.

'Himura Battosai', he said loudly.

It was supposedly not an introduction but calling the other man's name, as his opponent took out a fresh business card from his kimono's sleeve and gave it to Saito.

'I'm currently Himura Kenshin.'

'Wanderer, housekeeper, mediator, family therapist, logistics assistant. Hm. I see. So I came in vain. You don't have swordsmanship on your menu anymore.'

Kenshin squinted.

'It will be back, I just have to think about your yellow striped spandex uniform.'

The security guard burst out in a typical villain-ish, spluttering laughter, that could have even been a good practice for his lungs. Then the laughter caused an instant cough as well and he was not able to answer for about two minutes, thus losing his majestic appearance.

'You think you can defeat me?'

Kenshin did not return the laugh, but tried to answer in his most sarcastic tone.

'You were only second among the Kyoto bees. Everyone knows that Okita Soshi was the best, but he died of being a passive smoker, thanks to your bad habits. Which you still have, as your previous cough proves.'

Saito (who –in contrast with Kenshin – was only referred to by his last name as his first name, 'hajime' was more often used to start fights) gave a grunt.

'That's a lie! His name was Soji, not Soshi! He just used it in fifty different ways to confuse his opponents and drive historytards crazy.'

'Don't you want to end this history lesson and fight or something?', interrupted the lady (mistress / drama queen / kenjutsu-impostor / her stinginess) who seemed to long for more action. No wonder; her only role in the scene was to act as the 'girl worrying in the background' and got only one sentence.

'The missie is absolutely right, but I think we should do this outside. There are only a few dojos around, I don't want to destruct the interior', said Saito. Kenshin agreed with a nod. Ever since he had been in Tokyo, he had to rebuild the whole training hall at least three times. Whenever a new opponent appeared, his skills were confined to ruin the surrounding area. And the lady (mistress / drama queen / etc.) in the background interpreted the term 'ruroni', aka 'wanderer' quite freely, putting it alongside masons and carpenters, thus the task of renovation after battles was always appointed to Kenshin.

So they went out to the backyard where only an undersized brat practised with a bamboo sword, although his practice consisted only of beating the dust out of the futons. Apart from him, they could only see a lanky ex-fighter, a wanted medic who previously made opium, an insomniac minister of internal affairs, a hyperactive chief of the police department, a general of all moving troops in Japan, a few fake Battosai, the full staff of Akabeko and its guests listed for the "A" menu. A little less than 50 people. When some of them noticed the preparations for a duel, they began to make a temporary grandstand, while the waitresses of Akabeko did a prompt practice on cheerleading. Somebody recognized Saito and a faint slogan of "Slightly Bad Things Please Happen To Mibu Wolves" could be heard, but he was soon silenced with a Domo-kun plush. Saito never liked to waste his sword on background characters with less than 3 chapters of appearance, and the toy proved to be excellent against demonstrators.

Meanwhile, the worried lady (mistress, etc.) was so depressed over the seriousness of the expected fight that she quickly seated everyone and even brought food. Though, the latter did not sale well, and the income barely offered any comfort.

'Come on already...', said Kenshin who had to attend the Annual Forum With Teacarts And Stuff Like That Only For Heroes Saving The World. Saito moved to his stance, which was said to be never ever seen by anybody, because his opponents could rarely talk after seeing it. Thus it was only mere speculation that this was His Stance. Taking this opportunity, the reporter of Tokyo Times, who could not miss such fights, quickly took a picture of Saito with the newest camera (doing it in a mere five minutes!) and was proud in advance for raising the sale statistics of the newspaper.

Kenshin squinted and also did his little stance that was well-known in the whole neighbourhood.

'Boooooooring!', commented some other suicidal person from the crowd, but a man knocked him down from behind with a 12-pound yin-yang earring.

'Shut up', he added politely with a smile.

But Kenshin took it as a sign for starting the fight, and drew his sword.

Saito suddenly had to lean forward, but this was not caused by pain – they hadn't even started the brawl – but by laughter.

'Ehexcuse me, but you dohon't...'

He cleared his throat, and since he was famous for his poker face, he tried to oppress his overflowing feelings.

'Uhm, you don't want to fight with that stuff, right...?'

Kenshin further squinted, looking more Mongolian than Japanese now.

'Do you have any problem with it? It's a high quality blade, nicely crafted and...'

'But it's reversed!'

Saito was a swordaholic, secretly spending all his earnings on katana, so he could instantly spot any mistake on swords. However, the audience was surprised.

'Wha-?'

'He's sayin' Himura's sword is reversed.'

'Ain't he holdin' it right?'

'Idiot', said the man with the yin-yang earring. 'It's the blade that is reversed. Jesus, I was right, Chinese folks are a lot more intelligent...'

Kenshin turned red, his face matching his hair colour.

'I just... Took it and...'

He burst out.

'I didn't know that moron swordsmith had no qualifications!'

Some spectators rather went home as it was clear that no bloodshed would happen. The insomniac minister broke into tears by some mysterious reason. The head of the police department tried to comfort him, while giving piercing look to Kenshin. Saito put his sword away and attempted not to chuckle too loud.

'Listen, Battosai. Lehehet's puhut thihis battle off... I'll come back as soon as I manage to la- I mean, as soon as you get some normal sword.

Thus he left along with the audience, while Kenshin shook his fist to the sky.

'So a sakabato would be a great idea... Yeah, thanks a lot, sensei!'


End file.
